


hello, it's nice to meet you again

by TheWayneManner



Series: Strange Bedfellows [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, But Surprise! It didn't stick, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Dubious Morality, Explicit Language, Explosives, Hurt/Comfort, Internal Victim Blaming, Lazarus Pit Madness, Lost Days! Jason Todd, M/M, Minor tags warned at the end of chapters, Nudity, Sexual Content, Unreliable Narrator, Violence, mentions of past character death, this fic is not as dark as it sounds, you are warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25853791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWayneManner/pseuds/TheWayneManner
Summary: Talon!Dick and a recently resurrected Jason Todd meet, dying isn’t the only thing they have in common.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Series: Strange Bedfellows [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1876033
Comments: 51
Kudos: 260
Collections: JayDick Summer Exchange 2020





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BehindTheRobinsMask](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BehindTheRobinsMask/gifts).



> Thank you for the wonderful prompt, BehindTheRobinsMask! I am a HUGE fan of many of your works. You contribute so much great content to the fandom, so this fic is my little 'thank you' for all the entertainment you have provided me! I hope you love the fic as much as I loved writing it for you.
> 
> P.S. I loved your prompt so much that it absolutely got away from me and will end up being a three-part series. But for now, I hope you enjoy the first part.  
>   
> A HUGE thank you to the mods! Y'all put on a fantastic event this summer. I really needed a pick-me-up with all the stuff going on in the world right now and boy did y'all give it to me! 
> 
> And thank you GG for the betaing ;)
> 
> P.S.S. Sorry for all the exposition in this first chapter, but I did try to make it as interesting as I could! Let me know what you think!

Jason had plans.

Get to Gotham, kill Batman, and kill that goddamn clown.

In hindsight, it wasn’t the most elaborate of plans. It was definitely missing a handful of steps here and there, but hey, he knew what his main objectives were, and he’d figure all the in-between stuff out along the way.

It didn’t take much effort to get to Gotham. Talia had provided him with extensive funds, and he was resourceful, to say the least. He was Robin, after all. The operative word here being _was_ , you know, before he’d gotten beaten and blown up to death by the Joker with a distinct lack of being avenged. Hence, the whole ‘kill Batman’ part of the plan.

Jason honestly wasn’t mad about the whole ‘dying’ thing. Yeah, it sucked, but what sucked even more, was coming back from the dead and finding out that his mentor, his _dad_ , hadn’t done a damn thing about it. Instead of putting the clown in the ground where he long since deserved to be, he had let him live to hurt, kill, and maim another day. Jason had thought that the death of his son would serve as the exception to Bruce’s no-kill rule, but despite the adoption papers and words of reassurance, it was obvious Bruce had never really cared about him, never loved him, never truly thought of him as _his_ son. If he had, the Joker would’ve been dead long before Jason had dug himself out of his grave. And _that’s_ what pissed Jason off, Bruce choosing a literal psychotic, mass _murderer_ over his own kid.

If the Joker had taken Bruce from _him_ , Jason wouldn’t have stopped until the Joker was six feet under, and preferably in multiple pieces. There wouldn’t have been a force on Earth that could have stopped him from avenging Bruce because, unlike Bruce, Jason had actually given a damn about him. 

Bruce had always said that ‘Batman could never kill, that he could never cross that line,’ but Jason hadn’t needed the fucking Batman to kill the Joker. He had needed Bruce, his _dad_ , to choose _him_ , to avenge him. But instead, Bruce had chosen the clown to avoid crossing Batman’s precious line. By Bruce refusing to kill the Joker, he was just as responsible as the clown for every murder and maiming.

The Joker needed to die, and so did Batman.  


xXx

Jason had been running recon on the Bat for a little over a week now, learning his new patrol routes, and re-familiarizing himself with the Bat’s gear, surveillance protocols, and fighting style. Jason was pleased to find that, for the most part, the Bat’s fighting style hadn’t changed much since his own not so permanent death. He could still anticipate which offensive and defensive attacks and counterattacks the Bat would make before he made them and how he would respond in certain situations. It had once been his job as Robin to predict and complement Batman’s actions, to work in tandem with him. Now he’d be using that insider knowledge to do what no one had ever managed to do before- kill Batman.

Jason was expecting another night of watching Batman effortlessly take down your average pea-brain mugger or thug when he came across the Bat fighting what was decidedly not your average criminal. The fight was happening on top of an abandoned building in the old bowery district of Gotham, and the first thing that was a dead giveaway that the guy wasn’t your average give-me-all-your-money-or-I’ll-shoot type of criminal was his fighting style. It was all refinement and grace with a deadly edge to it, something that Jason never had and never would associate with Gotham’s typical goon population.

There was definitely League influences in his fighting style, but not enough for Jason to consider him an actual League member. Not to mention the assassin wasn’t donning the typical League uniform. It was much more… theatrical than the standard League attire considering that the guy was wearing a gold-lined hood, complete with large goggles, and golden daggers strapped to various areas of his body. 

Even if the guy could be ruled out as a League member, Jason would still mark him as an assassin. He was far too skilled to be anything else, and Jason really doubted Batman would be trying his very best to punch a hole through the guy if he was one of the “good” guys.

Besides the recognizable League forms, the assassin was also utilizing fighting styles like Krav Maga, Aikido, Kalarippayattu, Kyusho Jitsu, and Muay Thai, all forms that Jason himself had learned under Batman. There was something else familiar about the way the assassin fought. Something light and almost playful, that blended seamlessly with the other fighting styles. Still, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why it was so familiar.

The fight itself was mesmerizing. If it weren’t for the nerve strikes that the assassin was trying to land and the glint of batarangs, Jason could have mistaken the fight for the most intricate and serpentine dance he’d ever seen. Where Batman moved forward, the assassin would dance backward. Where Batman stepped back, the assassin would follow, as if an invisible rope tied them together, refusing to let one move without the other. Never quite connecting but caught within each other’s orbit, nonetheless. It almost reminded Jason of his sparring sessions with Bruce, minus the whole possibility of getting maimed.

One thing he did find odd about the fight was that none of the assassin’s attacks could be considered overtly lethal. Crippling? Yes. But lethal, no. And there was no doubt in Jason’s mind that this assassin was the definition of lethal. Instead, the assassin kept up his dizzying barrage of nerve strikes, only to dance away from the slash of a batarang at a moment’s notice. The blows that Batman did manage to land didn’t even seem to faze the assassin, he continued on as if nothing untoward had happened. As if it was all part of the elaborate dance to get slashed in the face by a batarang. Batman, for his part, had managed to avoid the assassins more crippling nerve strikes, but Jason could tell he was starting to flag. It was unlikely the assassin had noticed, but to a former Robin, it was obvious.

The two continued to clash, batarangs and the daggers that the assassin had yet to draw, glinting in the sparse moonlight as their dance began to pick up speed, taking on an almost desperate edge to it. Again, Jason was hit with a sense of familiarity, nearing Deja-vu. A flash of blue and black coming to the forefront of his mind, but before he could contemplate that flash of color further, his reverie was broken by Batman suddenly lunging for the assassin’s throat. It took Jason longer than it should have to realize that the Bat had just stuck one of his compact explosives against the cloth that covered the assassin’s neck.

Jason felt time freeze. The next 1.94 seconds (the amount of time it took for that type of explosive to detonate) felt like it was encased in molasses. Jason had the fleeting thought of how this must be how Barry feels all the time, time slowed to an almost unbearable extent, yet, somehow, not slow enough either.

He watched in abject horror as he waited for the inevitable to happen, but just as quickly as the Bat had placed the explosive, the assassin was ripping it off and flinging the device to the side. Despite the assassin’s quick response, his hand was partially caught in the detonation, resulting in the once ten fingered assassin now becoming what Jason estimated to be an eight fingered assassin. The assassin spared a moment to glance at the three remaining fingers of his left hand, opening and closing them several times. Whatever he was trying to gauge must have been acceptable since he proceeded to just stand there, slightly cocking his head to the side at Batman to express his mild disappointment with the man for trying to blow his head off. As if the loss of two fingers was only a slight inconvenience rather than the maiming that it was. After bending over and retrieving what Jason could only imagine were his newly departed fingers and putting them in a concealed pouch of his uniform, the assassin resumed the fight as if the last thirty seconds hadn’t just happened.

 _Who the fuck was this guy?_ And more importantly, _What the actual fuck, Bruce?!_

Since when did fucking _Batman_ kill? What happened to rule number 1? What happened to "Batman can't kill"? Was this a new thing? This had to be a new thing. Right? Right. Jason's pretty sure Talia would have mentioned this in her crash course of "this is what has happened since the Joker exploded you."

If killing was suddenly a nonissue then why in the ever-loving fuck would Bruce decide to kill this rando assassin -who honestly wasn't even that evil as far as Jason could tell- but leave the literal murderer of his son, the embodiment of evil, the human equivalent of a dumpster fire, the green shit stain known as the Joker alive?! If Batman was going to snap -or whatever the fuck was going on here- then the Joker should have been the very first to die at the hands of the Bat, not this fucking no name, eight-fingered assassin!

Green was slowly creeping into Jason's vision. The voices that were always there but more quiet whisperings than anything else growing in volume, yet still unintelligible except for the odd word getting through. The onslaught of voices talking over one another was doing nothing to help the pounding behind his eyes. His skin tacky and too hot, making him feel like an outsider masquerading in his own body. But he couldn't let the pit rage take over. If he let the rage take over, he'd try to kill Bruce right here and now, but he couldn't. The rage made him stupid, and he couldn't afford to be stupid, especially if he'd be facing a Batman who was willing to kill.

Jason closed his eyes, going through some breathing exercises that Alfred had taught him once upon a time to help him through the panic attacks he was prone to get. The mere thought of the elderly butler, who was more like a grandfather to Jason than anything else, brought a pang to his heart, but he quickly buried the emotion down. He could throw his own personal pity party about most likely never seeing Alfred again later, preferably in the privacy of his latest safe house. It took him the better part of five minutes to get the pit rage under wraps, but he had managed nonetheless. When he opened his eyes, there was one thought at the forefront of his mind.

He had an assassin to save.  


xXx

This was probably one of the worst ideas Jason had ever had, only second to him deciding to run off to Ethiopia to find his mom, resulting in him getting beaten and blown up by the Joker.

If Jason could understand the voices in his head right now, he's 99% sure even they'd be telling him what a colossally bad idea it was to be putting everything on the line to save a random assassin who he had no guarantee wouldn't turn on him. One thing he did know was that Batman wanted the assassin dead and, by default, that made Jason want him alive. Yeah, the assassin was probably a piece of garbage, considering that he was a literal _assassin_ , but it was a thing of principle now. Plus, Jason had questions, and he sure as heck wasn't going to go to Batman for the answers.

Jason made his way over to the roof of an old distillery that overlooked the building where the two were, unsurprisingly, still fighting. The assassin's back was to him, meaning that Batman was facing him, but he was still high enough up where Batman couldn't see him from his vantage point. Jason had one shot at the world's most improvised rescue mission, and if he didn't want to fuck over the entirety of his revenge plans for Batman, he couldn't screw this up.

Technically, Jason could just walk away, avoiding all possibilities of potentially screwing up his plans, but Jason was petty, and he would never pass on a chance to fuck over the Bat and, in this case, fucking over the Bat meant rescuing an eight fingered assassin.

With a silent, _here's to shitty plans_ , Jason crossed his fingers and lobbed a handful smoke bombs between the assassin and Batman, effectively cutting Batman off from the assassin, but making it where the assassin would still be able to see Jason.

Jason whistled to get the assassin's attention, not wanting to risk Batman recognizing his voice. The assassin slowly turned around, probably wary of turning his back against the Bat despite the wall of smoke between them. In any other situation, Jason might have commended the guy for his cautiousness, but right now, they were on a time crunch. The smoke would be dissipating soon, and Batman would probably be getting his bearings even sooner. They needed to get out of here and fast if they wanted to outrun the Bat, and the bigger the head start, the better. Squatting near the edge of the building, Jason gestured for the assassin to take his hands, it would be quite the jump from where the assassin was, but Jason didn't doubt he could make it.

But apparently, the assassin didn't realize or care that they were supposed to be getting the fuck out of dodge because he just stood there starring at him. For fuck's sake, Jason had basically just saved his ass, the least this guy could do was pick up the pace.

Wiggling his fingers, Jason hopped to convey the time-sensitivity of the situation. It wasn't until after he wiggled his fingers that he realized the assassin might have taken the action as Jason mocking him for his recent loss of fingers. Internally cringing, Jason hoped that the assassin would realize it would be pretty stupid for him to get in-between him and Batman just to mock him.

The assassin gave one last fleeting glance towards the wall of smoke that Batman no doubt was on the other side of, before ultimately coming to the decision that he'd rather take his chances with sketchy-smoke-bomb guy than with a down-to-kill Batman. Running, the assassin easily made the jump, grabbing Jason's hands. Jason could feel the remaining jagged bones of what used to be two of the assassin's fingers digging into his gloves, which _ew_ , and began to use his own weight to pull the assassin onto the roof. It was easier than Jason expected, but now that he was level with the assassin, Jason could tell he had a good four inches and thirty pounds on the other man.

Taking the assassin not immediately trying to kill him as a good sign and not wanting to waste the minimal head start they had on the Bat, Jason motioned for the assassin to follow him. To his immense relief, the assassin quickly fell into stride with him, and they soon began to run across the rooftops of Gotham. Jason didn't feel the need to engage the other man in conversation until they reached their destination, and the assassin must have shared the same sentiment judging by his own silence.

Despite the duo's own silence, Gotham was anything but silent. With laughter and music filtering through the various open windows, the constant hum of voices both loud and soft, and the wail of sirens in the background, there was no room for silence. It was the lullaby of Gotham, one that had lulled Jason to sleep every night when he lived in the Narrows. It was the sound of home.

As the two continued to run across Gotham’s rooftops, occasionally glancing back to make sure they didn’t have a bat-shaped stalker, Jason couldn’t help but appreciate the innate beauty of Gotham. Since he’d returned to the city, he’d been so focused on watching Batman that he hadn’t taken the time to look away from the vigilante and towards the city that had raised him. The combination of the city lights and pollution gave Gotham an almost ethereal glow, which was better than any cheesy Hawaiian sunset as far as Jason was concerned.

From the first time Jason had seen the city from above, he knew he was in love. He knew he would do anything to protect his city, he’d die for her, he did die for her, and now that he was back he was going to do his damnedest to be the protector that Gotham deserved and that began with ridding her of filth like the Joker and false heroes like the Bat.

Slowly coming out of his reverie, Jason was surprised at how easy it had been for him to get lost in his thoughts in the presence of a basically unknown entity. It was stupid is what it was, to get comfortable enough to let his guard down around a literal assassin, but there was something that felt almost… _right_ about running across the rooftops with his silent companion. And shit, if that wasn’t proof that Jason got a little pit madness from his swim in the Lazarus pools, then he didn’t know what was.

Despite coming to the realization that he was probably bat-shit crazy, pun abso-fucking-lutely intended, Jason couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. It felt good to be running through Gotham again with company besides his own shadow.

Even if said companion was an eight-fingered assassin.


	2. Downtown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes: If you love music with your fics I highly suggest you listen to the song Downtown by Majical Cloudz when you get to the part that says, “He was exhausted.’ It inspired the whole ending of this chapter, which just so happens to be my fav part 😉

Jason would be the very first to admit that leading an unknown assassin, let alone an assassin that Batman had apparently made his mission to kill, back to his "safe-house" was a new level of stupid, even for him; and he was the Robin idiotic enough to get blown up by the Joker. Not only did he risk getting slaughtered in his own apartment, but he also risked the Bat tracing them back to here and putting a premature end to his plans.

To Jason's credit though, he wasn't a complete idiot. The second the assassin had crawled through the window, Jason had a gun trained on the other man. He might be stupid enough to lead an assassin back to his temporary home, but he wasn't about to double that stupid by not being cautious around the other man. Jason had seen the man fight Batman, he wasn't taking any chances with someone who seemed to be an equal match to the Bat. 

“You, on the couch now,” Jason ordered, briefly pointing his gun to the couch to emphasize his command before aiming it back at the other man.

The assassin seemed unbothered with the demand and gun combo, easily going to the couch and sitting crossed-legged.  
Keeping the gun aimed at the assassin, Jason dragged a chair that had been by the window over to the couch, flipping it around and straddling it so that he faced the other man. Now that they weren’t running across rooftops in the middle of the night, Jason was finally able to get a good look at him.

The dark hood and the oversized goggles obscured most of the man’s features, but from what Jason could see the assassin was unnaturally pale, the blue veins of his cheeks in sharp contrast with his pale skin. Dude obviously had a serious vitamin D deficiency. If circumstances had been different, Jason might have felt compelled to offer the other man some OJ, but refreshments and vitamin supplements could wait until Jason figured out if Mr. Assassin was planning on murdering him in the near future. 

“So ground rules,” Jason began. “don’t try to kill me, and I won’t put a bullet between those pretty goggles of yours and know that if you fuck with me, I will just fuck you back harder.”

Jason couldn’t help but internally cringe at his words the minute they were out of his mouth. It sounded more like he was promising the guy a good time than threatening to seriously maim him. He wasn’t surprised when he saw the other man’s lips twitch, but it still pissed him off.

“Oh, I’m sorry, but is there something funny about me threatening to turn you into swiss cheese?” Jason asked with false bravado, trying to convey that he wasn’t completely mortified by what he just said.

“You are-“ The assassin began, his voice startlingly rough as if he were unused to speaking. Clearing his throat, the man tried again. “You are strange.”

Jason gave the man an unimpressed look.

“It’s just… You save me from the Batman, take me to your nest, to what? Kill me yourself? It is strange. You are strange. No?” The man asked with a cock of his head.

Jason was momently thrown by the nest comment, but decided he had bigger fish to fry than to worry about the assassin’s odd vernacular.

“Don’t try to kill me, and you won’t have to worry about me killing you.” Jason replied, deciding to ignore the assassin’s last question and his use of the word ‘nest.’

The assassin nodded his understanding before speaking again. 

“And I will refrain from 'fucking with you,' even though I am curious just how much harder you could fuck back.” He said with a slight uptick of his mouth, suppressing the outright grin that was threatening to take over.

Jason could feel his face instantly color at the assassin’s words, and it didn’t help matters that the man’s voice was still husky from disuse. Leave it to Jason to try to threaten a guy and actually end up perving out on him.

Trying to get the conversation back on track, he completely ignored the man’s flirtatious comment and forged on with his original line of questioning. “So, this is how this is going to work, I’ll ask you a question, and if you answer me honestly, I’ll let you ask me one in return, capiche?” Jason didn’t mention that he had no way of knowing if the other man answered honestly or not, but he was hoping that by allowing the assassin to ask his own questions it would put them on equal footing, resulting in the other man being more willing to answer Jason’s questions. 

“Capiche.” The assassin answered immediately, seeming a little too excited for Jason’s taste, but it was better than the assassin being totally unwilling to play along.

“But before we start playing 20 questions, do you want something for your hand?” Jason asked, gesturing with his gun to the hand that was missing two of its fingers. The assassin brought his hand up to his face as if he was just now discovering two of his fingers had gotten exploded off.  
“No, thank you, they should be fine for now.”

Jason really didn’t think that was a good idea, but as long as the guy didn’t start bleeding all over his couch, he wasn’t going to force the issue.

“Okay, we’ll start off easy. What’s your name?” Jason asked, deciding to lower his gun for now.  
“Talon.”

Jason blinked at the name, not sure what to make of it. The guy was either really dedicated to his theme considering the ‘nest’ comment earlier and now his name, or bird-boy was living up to the Gotham brand of crazy, and at this point, Jason didn’t know which one would be worse.

“Okay T,” Jason said, refusing to outright call him Talon, the name just didn’t seem to fit the man, “your turn to ask a question.”

“What is your name?” Which okay, fair. Jason really should have expected that one.

“You can call me Jay.” T hummed at this, seemingly content with Jason’s name.

“Are you an assassin, T?” Jason asked, going with another neutral question since it was pretty obvious to anyone with half a brain that the man was an assassin. It would also help Jason gauge if the other man was going to be honest with him or try to answer in a way he thought would put Jason more at ease.  
“Yes.” The man answered without hesitation, but also without a hint of pride, which was… unusual, to say the least. Most assassins that Jason had encountered had always been extremely proud of their trade and weren’t afraid to boast about it. Example A being the al Ghul’s and all the minions who followed them. This was only confirmation that the assassin wasn’t a full League member, despite his fighting style having obvious League influences.

“It’s your turn again.” Jason reminded the man, not unkindly.

The assassin contemplated his question for several minutes, before settling on, “Your eyes. Why do they change color?”

“They don’t,” Jason replied automatically, not because he was quick to lie, but because as far as he knew, his eyes didn’t change colors. The assassin must have seen wrong, a trick of the light.

“Yes, they do. They are blue right now, but there were traces of green in your eyes when you first helped me onto the roof.”

“I-“ Jason began to say but stopped himself because, until this moment, Jason was almost positive that his eyes were among the few things about him that the Lazarus pit hadn’t changed. He was still coming to terms with the various changes the pit had made to him, but the one thing he had always taken solace in, the one thing that was still the same, had been his stormy blue eyes. It was the only thing that he still recognized as Jason Todd.

Jason still remembers his first night in Gotham, the first time he had really gotten a look at himself since coming back to life. Every feature of his face was the same, but slightly skewed, as if someone had tried to recreate Jason Todd only to not get it entirely right. His cheekbones were more pronounced that he remembered them, sharper and hollower, leading down to a jawline that had lost every ounce of its softness, only to be replaced with sharp edges. The freckles that had once peppered his nose and cheekbones were now faint, a whisper of what they once were. The scar that had bisected the left side of his upper lip now gone, leaving him with a mouth that he didn’t even recognize. Hell, his teeth even seemed whiter, not to mention the distinct white streak in his black hair that most definitely was not there before the pit. If it weren’t for his eyes, he might not have even believed that the reflection that was looking back at him was his.

That night, Jason had punched that mirror until he could no longer see his reflection, the blood from his knuckles obscuring the once reflective surface.

Everything was wrong that night. His thoughts twisted and confusing, unintelligible, even to him. His face a shade closer to a strangers than his own. Gotham, the city that had raised him, even felt different. The only thing that had been right that night had been his eyes. And apparently, his eyes weren’t even the same.

Jason could feel himself slipping, the pit rage threatening to consume him, pulling him further away from the boy he used to be. The only thing that saved him from going completely under the haze of pit rage was when he felt a light touch on his thigh. 

He hadn’t even realized he had closed his eyes until they snapped back open and landing on the assassin, who was now crouched at Jason’s feet, his hand lightly squeezing Jason’s bent knee.

The simple touch had him coming back to himself, the pit rage quelled for now, and his senses returning to him. He could feel the warm wetness of tears that streaked his cheeks. He furiously began to scrub at his face, trying to hide the evidence that the assassin had no doubt already seen.

For fucks sake, what was wrong with him, having a mental break down in front of a complete stranger, a stranger who could have easily killed him, mind you. He must really be something to pity if a literal assassin was trying to console him.  
He felt ridiculous. Here he was, at 19 years old and over six feet, sitting in a chair with a gun dangling from his hand, with a literal assassin crouched at his feet, comforting him. Just as Jason opened his mouth to apologize for the scene, he no doubt had just caused, the assassin interrupted him.

“Hush, little bird. It is okay.” The assassin murmured, now rubbing soothing circles along Jason’s thigh. He should have been shocked by the familiarity that the man regarded him with, he should have batted the other man’s hand away, but he wasn’t, and he didn’t.

After what could have been minutes or even hours, the assassin stopped his gentle mitigations, moving back to his place on the couch. Jason couldn’t help but feel disappointed at the loss of contact. He hated himself for even yearning for the other man’s touch, it was downright humiliating. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had been this weak in front of another person.

Now that Jason had a minute to pull himself together without being distracted by the gentle rubbing on his thigh, he remembered what the assassin had called him. Little bird. 

“Little bird?” Was all that Jason could manage to ask, his voice chocked to his own ears.

“Yes, you looked more like a bird than a man as you flew across the rooftops tonight.”

Apparently, the nickname ‘little bird’ was a continuation of the assassin’s obsession with all things bird.

“Little though?” Jason said, his voice coming back to him a bit more. “I’m taller and bigger than you, you know?” He couldn’t help the small grin that followed his words.

“Just because you’re taller than me, doesn’t mean you’re not a baby bird.” The assassin replied, a smile playing at his own lips.

“Oh, so now I’m a baby bird, am I?” Jason teased back, feeling much more like himself.

“Yes, a very argumentative baby bird.”

Jason was surprised by the laugh that escaped him. It was a noise he hadn’t heard himself make since before he had died, and yet, it was exactly as he remembered it. A laugh that was completely Jason Todd, untainted by his death or the Lazarus pit. He may not have the same face, hair, or even eyes, but he had the same laugh, and for now, that was more than enough.

Once Jason’s laugh had died down, a comfortable silence fell between the two. He couldn’t believe how just moments ago he had been on the verge of a full-blown mental breakdown, but now here he was, feeling lighter than he had felt in a long time, sharing a smile with a man he had met less than three hours ago. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he felt an emotion that wasn’t despair or rage.

It was… nice.

Jason wasn't sure how long the compatible silence had lasted, but he was surprised when his quiet companion was the one to break it.

"I am sorry." The assassin said, the once light atmosphere once again becoming serious.

"The fuck are you sorry for?" Jason asked, taken aback by the apology.

"The question, it was obviously distressing to you. I wouldn't have asked it if I had known it would cause you so much pain."

Jason couldn't see the other man's eyes, but the sincerity in his tone left Jason speechless. Jason couldn't remember the last time someone had apologized to him, especially about something as trivial as his feelings.

"S'not your fault. If you haven't noticed, I'm kind of fucked up in the head." Jason mumbled, not knowing what to say to the unnecessary apology and a little uncomfortable by it.

In reply, the man stood from the couch, slowly taking a step forward until he was directly in front of Jason, forcing Jason to have to look up to see the man's face. The assassin reached out with is fully fingered hand and began to trail his fingers through Jason's hair. Jason, too shocked to do anything else, sat there watching the other man's face.

"Your head doesn't look fucked up to me. It looks rather nice, actually." The assassin eventually said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jason couldn't help but smile at the absolute absurdity of this man.

"You're pretty corny, you know that, T?" Jason replied, just as quietly.

"And you little bird, are sad and so angry, but make no mistake, you are not fucked up."

And fuck, did Jason want to believe that more than anything, but doubt was a deep-seated thing. 

"How would you know, you just met me." And if Jason sounded desperate for reassurance, then fuck it, he'd already cried in front of the guy, he couldn't sink any lower at this point.

"I may have just met you, but I've already learned enough about you to know that your head isn't as fucked up as you think it is."

Jason honestly wasn't buying it, and he said as much.

"Oh yeah, and what exactly do you know about me?" Jason snorted and began to pull away only to have the assassin tighten his grip, pulling Jason's head forward until his forehead was pressed against the cloth of the man's stomach, bringing his other hand up to Jason's head and securely holding Jason's head against him.

It almost felt like the man was cradling Jason's head against his stomach. No, it wasn't almost, that was exactly what the assassin was doing, and any doubt that the man wasn't disappeared the moment he began to gently card his fingers through Jason's hair.

"I know that you were watching me and the Batman fight," Jason tensed at the revelation that the assassin had known he was there the whole time but didn't pull away from the other man. "and once you realized the Batman was trying to kill me, you intervened. You saved me, a complete stranger, despite the potential harm it could bring to yourself.

"I also know that you first offered to tend to my wound despite the dozens of questions you had for me. Not only did you show me kindness and concern, but you treated me as an equal. Offering me to ask of you just as much as you were to ask of me. You are many things, little bird; brave, compassionate, kind, but fucked up is not one of them."

Jason was suddenly thankful that his face was hidden in the other man's stomach as he felt his eyes begin to sting with unshed tears. The last thing he needed to do was cry in front of the other man again. Not trusting himself to talk just yet, he focused on his breathing. The assassin must have not minded Jason's nonresponse, considering he just continued to hold Jason against him.

"Why are you being so nice to me." Jason couldn't help but ask, his voice rough. 

"Because I want to. Because I can." The assassin replied simply.

"That's not really an answer."

"Tell me, little bird, what do you know of the Court of Owls?"

Jason was momentarily thrown by the question, unsure how this line of questioning related to their current conversation or if it even did at all.

"Nothing. I don't think. It kind of sounds vaguely familiar, but that's about it." Jason said as he began to pull away from the other man so that he could see his face. Talon allowed movement, unlike last time, letting his hands drop back to his sides.

 _"Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time,  
Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime.  
They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed.  
Speak not a whispered word about them, or they'll send the Talon for your head,"_ the assassin intoned. 

Instantly Jason was taken back to the when his mother used to hold him close at night, whispering the rhyme in his ear as she lulled him to sleep with other rhymes and tales. Despite his recognition of the rhyme, Jason still had no clue what it had to do with their current situation.

"I love a creepy nursery rhyme as much as the next guy, T, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"The Court is much more than just the subject of a children's rhyme. They are very much real and just as deadly as the rhyme suggests." 

“Are you telling me you’re one of the assassins of the Court? That the Court of Owls is actually real?”

“Yes.” The Talon responded, his voice once again taking on a hoarse quality. “The Court… they take your free will, along with your memories. They control everything about you, your mind, your autonomy, your body. I know nothing but the Court, I do not even know if I had a life before the Court or if I have always just been a weapon of death and destruction. They molded me to be the perfect killer, and that is what I was. There was no way to escape the Court or their will. Well, until the Batman came and destroyed them.

“As the Court fell, I was set free. Never again would I be forced to maim or kill. Never again would my body be anyone’s but my own. Never again would I be punished for thinking. For the first time since I can remember, I was given the gift of choice.

“And you, little bird, are my greatest choice yet.

Jason was speechless, not only had he just been described as someone’s “greatest choice yet,” but he had also just learned about a secret, bird-themed, murder society and met probably the only person in the world who could top getting exploded to death by the Joker, spontaneously resurrected, and dipped in a green glowing pit of eternal of life. It was a lot to process.

“Do not tell me I have broken you, little bird?” The Talon asked playfully, despite the bombshell he had just dropped on Jason.

“Well, T. I’m not gonna lie, that’s a lot to process, and this is coming from a guy who died, came back, and then was drowned in green water until he got a little better, but also a whole lot worse in other ways.”

The Talon paused, not quite sure what to make out of Jason’s bizarre statement.

“Stranger and stranger, you seem to become, little bird.”

Jason snorted. “I could say the same thing about you.”

“Yes, I suppose we make a strange pair.” The Talon replied softly, his right hand once again rising to lightly stroke Jason’s hair.

“A pair?” Jason asked sounding slightly choked, and he knew the look on his face must have been of longing hope, a type of desperation in its own right, but damn, he was just so tired of being alone. “You really mean that?”

The Talon nodded. “Yes, if you’d have me, I’d like to stay-“

“Yes.” Jason all but shouted, standing up so fast that the chair toppled over to the side. The Talon seemed startled by the movement, his hand once again returning back to his side.

“Yes.” Jason repeated again, this time not as loud but just as sure. “Stay.”

“You are too quick to answer, little bird. The Batman will continue to hunt me until I am dead. I may very well be the reason he shows up at your doorstop if you allow me to stay.” The Talon argued.

"I don't care." And oddly enough, Jason didn't care, even though his whole reason for coming back to Gotham had been to put the Bat down along with the clown. If he got to keep the ex-assassin by his side, it would be worth the possibility of unraveling all his plans.

"Little bird, there are things you don't understand about the situation."

"Then explain them," Jason replied simply, taking a step closer to the man.

"Do you wonder why the Batman hunts me with the intent to kill."  
"Yes," Jason replied because if he was honest, that had been one of the main questions he had for the Talon before everything had gotten derailed by his angst-fest.

"He thinks I'm already dead... that there isn't anything left to kill, just something to stop." Which, okay, that was not the answer that he had been expecting.

"Fuck me." Jason groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Are you telling me we're dealing with a certifiable insane, Batman."

"No." The assassin said patiently, his lips twitching slightly.

"Oh," Jason said, a little confused, before coming to the conclusion that the Talon might actually be dead. "Are you technically dead?" He asked, but before the Talon could reply, he hurriedly added, "Because even if you are technically dead, I don't think that makes you dead-dead. I mean, look at vampires, technically dead, no heartbeat, but I mean they still have feelings and shit, right? Which makes them kinda alive. So, who are we to say they don't have the right to live just because they don't have a heartbeat, and I know that the whole example is based on the assumption that vampires are real, but the point still stands." Jason babbled before stopping himself. "Hold on. Are you a vampire?"

At this, the Talon outright laughed. His laugh a little rough, probably from disuse, but already Jason's new favorite sound. Jason couldn't help but stare down at the slightly chapped pink lips that framed two rows of perfect white teeth, which just so happened to be beaming up at him. He felt a sense of nostalgia sweep over him, but that couldn't be right. He'd met the man only several hours ago, with this being the first outright smile he'd seen from the man. How could the present already be feeling like a memory from the past? And since when had the Talon's mouth become the most interesting part of this entire conversation?

"No, little bird." The Talon replied, breaking Jason from his reverie. "I am not a vampire. I think at one point I may have died to become what I am now, maybe even more than once, but no. I am alive in every sense that matters. Blood pumps through my veins, and my mind is present." 

"If you're not dead and the Bat isn't crazy, then why the hell would he think your-"Jason paused, thinking it over and not liking the conclusion his thoughts led him to.

"T, no judgment, but you gotta level with me. Did the Bat catch you eating brains or doing some kind of zombie shit like that?" Jason asked, grimacing at the image his words invoked.

The Talon snorted at his question.

"No, I have done nothing to give your Bat the impression that I am a zombie.

"What you have to understand, little bird, is that most of the Court's Talons are centuries old, what was left of their humanity is completely gone, leaving them with the only ability to obey and kill. To keep them from decomposing, they have undergone treatments that I did not. So, while my heart may still beat, theirs does not. They are little more than undead slaves. 

“These are the only Talon’s that the Batman has encountered, so as far as he is concerned, I am an undead, unfeeling, unthinking creature, whose only purpose is to kill.”

“Fuck.”

“Yes, fuck would accurately describe this situation.”

A silence settled between the two, each lost in their own thoughts.

“You know that this doesn’t change anything that I said before, right? I still want you to stay.”

“You do?’ The Talon asked with a cock of his head.

“Yes, but there is something you should know before you decide to stay.” Jason took the Talon’s silence as his queue to continue. “There is bad blood between the Bat and me. Things between us that I can’t forgive, reasons why the Bat has to die. So as much as you probably want to just disappear from the Bat, I can’t yet, not until he’s six feet under.” Jason held his breath, hoping that the assassin wouldn’t run from him, wouldn’t hate him for the killer he was going to become. Hate him for having the choice of whether or not to become a killer and yet, still choosing to become the one thing that the other man wished he wasn’t, the one thing he was forced to become. When the Talon replied after several minutes of silence, it knocked the breath out of Jason.

“Do you- are you asking me to kill him for you?” The assassin asked, his gaze falling from Jason’s face to the ground.

“What?! No!” Jason nearly shouted, scrambling to explain to the man that he was definitely not asking _that_.

“I can see how much killing others has hurt you. I- I would never ask that of you.” Jason said, pleading with the other man to believe him. When the other man didn’t reply, his gaze still turned to the floor, Jason, acting on instinct, grabbed the other man’s face, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“T,” Jason began, rubbing slight circles along the other man’s cheekbones. “I really need you to listen to me right now, okay?”

The slight jerk of the assassin’s head let Jason know he was at least willing to listen.

“I will never ask something of you that you are unwilling to give.

“I will never ask you to kill, I will never ask you to hurt. I will never ask you to sacrifice your choice. 

“You will always have a choice. I will never take that away from you. Do you understand? _Never_.”

The Talon gave a slight nod, his hands coming up to rest atop Jason’s own. Relaxing a bit at the Talon’s show of reassurance, Jason allowed himself a moment to savor the feeling of the man’s hands atop his.

“I was only telling you that because I wanted you to know what I was planning to do with Batman. I- I didn’t know how you’d feel about me, you know, killing, becoming a killer.” Jason finished lamely.

The Talon squeezed Jason’s hands before taking them away from his face. Jason felt sick, the Talon was obviously disgusted with him and couldn’t even bear to be touched by Jason. Just as Jason turned away in shame, he realized that the Talon had yet to let go of his hands. Returning his gaze to the other man, Jason saw the sad smile on his face.  
“As much as I wish you weren’t in a position where you felt you had to kill someone, I trust you to do what you think is right. And while I cannot help you with this, I will not judge you either.”

“So, you’ll stay then?” Jason couldn’t help but ask.

“Yes, little bird.” The Talon’s sad smile turning into one of fond exasperation. “I will stay.”

Jason couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, he probably looked like an idiot with how wide he was smiling, but the Talon didn’t seem to mind as he returned the smile in kind.

“Yeah?” Jason asked one more time, just to be sure.

“Yeah.” The Talon smiled, giving Jason’s hands a gentle squeeze.

Deciding he needed something to do besides smile dopily at his new favorite ex-assassin, Jason decided they could probably both use some dinner, even if it was nearing 5 in the morning.

“How about I make some dinner then? Maybe some sandwiches and soup?”

“That sounds great.”

“Perfect,” Jason responded as he forced himself to let go of the other man and start making his way towards the kitchen.

“And don’t think I forgot about your fingers,” Jason called over his shoulder. “After we’re done eating, we’re going to clean and bandage them.”

“Such a bossy, baby bird.” Jason heard the man grumble, albeit good-naturedly.

Turning his attention to the kitchen, Jason began to prepare their food, deciding on grilled cheeses and tomato soup.  
He didn’t have much to drink besides some canned orange juice and beer. The thought of eating tomato soup with orange juice made him want to gag, but he probably shouldn’t presume that the Talon would want beer.

“You like beer, T?” Jason called from the kitchen his head in the fridge as he rummaged around for the cheese.

“I don’t know.” Came the reply. “I don’t think I’ve ever had it.”

“Beer, it is then!” Jason called back, determined that T would get to try and experience everything that the Court had deprived him of.

Making quick work of the sandwiches, Jason put the soup on to heat as he grabbed two beers and plated the sandwiches. Dinner wasn’t anything fancy, but grilled cheeses were filling and fast, two things that made them the perfect choice for tonight. Jason only hoped that the Talon liked it because he doubted the Court had been giving out welcome-back-home sandwiches after assassination assignments.

Pouring the soup into two bowls, Jason began to load everything up, balancing the plates and beer bottles on his arms and in his hands, making his way to the living room.

“Okay,” Jason began, keeping both eyes on the dishes he was balancing. “I hope you’re hungry because I might have gone a little overboard with the sandwiches.”

When Jason looked up from the precariously balanced dishes, everything seemed to slow down, his world narrowing down to golden eyes that should have been blue.

He was vaguely aware of the sound of dishes shattering around him, but just as things had slowed down, everything sounded muted as well. It felt as if he was being dipped into a thick fog until everything snapped into vivid clarity. 

xXx

_He was exhausted._

_All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and never get out again. He had barely managed to get his cape off before flopping onto his bed, he’d deal with the regret of sleeping in his suit in the morning._

_Seconds away from passing out, he rolled over, only to come face to face with a man who he had most definitely not invited into his bed. Jeez, talk about stranger danger._

_Doing the only logical thing he could in a situation like this, he tackled the stranger off the bed, earning him a startled yelp from the half-naked man. At some point during the whole scuffle, the man got him into a headlock, but Jason had just managed to get a hold on his leg and was about to flip the man on his back when the lights suddenly turned on._

_“Young masters, please!”_

_“He started it!”_

_“By sleeping?!”_

_“In **my** bed!” _

_“Why is **your** bed in **my** bedroom?!”_

_“Seriously, Alfred?!”_

~~~

_He really wasn’t in the mood for another lecture, especially from **him**. He got enough lectures from the Bat himself, thank you very much. _

_“Look, I’m going to forget that just happened. But we need to sort through this-“_

_“Blah blah blah. He boot you for talkin’ too much?”_

_“Robin-“_

_“Yeah, I get it. Maybe I’ll see you ‘round the cave, Goldie.”_

_“Kid, wait-“_  


~~~

_He was swinging across the rooftops of Gotham as fast as he could, but he still wasn't fast enough._

_"Wait up! He said we gotta do this together!"_

_"You'll just slow me down."_

_"No, I-"  
And then he didn't quite stick the landing, his boot slipping, and then he was falling._

_Until he wasn't._

_"I got you, kid. I won't let you fall."_  


~~~

_There was a man sitting on a rooftop, a white box beside him. The streets of Gotham were poorly lit, the rooftops even more so, but despite the darkness, Jason could still easily see him. The ridiculous silhouette and the glistening sequins of his suit making it impossible to mistake him for anyone else, let alone miss him._

_"I've been waiting for you." The man said, flashing a brilliant smile over his shoulder, and Jason couldn't help smiling back._

_"You have?"_  


~~~

_He was watching the snow fall._

_He'd never really seen snow like this. There was so much of it, and it was all so… white. Gotham didn't really get snow, and when it did, it was always slush by the time it hit the ground and more of a grey color from all of the pollution._

_It was quiet up here, peaceful._

_"You coming, Little Wing?"_

_"Yeah, yeah, I'm comin', don't get feathers in a bunch, Big Bird."_

_"Race you down?"_

_"Loser has to take the blame for scratching the Batmobile!"_

_"Hey!"_  


~~~

_The phone was on its sixth ring when the voicemail finally picked up._

 _Uh, hey Dick. It’s- it’s Jason. You said I could call you any time I needed to talk, and well, I really could use one of those famous overly optimistic Dick Grayson pep talks right now… I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing anymore. Bruce is pissed at me. He thinks I- well, it doesn’t matter what he thinks I did because I didn’t fucking do it. I think he might actually take Robin from me, for like good… But I didn’t just call you to bitch. I actually have some good news…. I- I found my mom, Dick. She’s alive. I’m going to go find her… I’m going to have a mom again._  


~~~

And then Jason was suddenly falling, because there on his couch, looking at him with golden eyes was Dick Grayson. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me so, so long to finish. I scrapped multiple drafts of it multiple times after I had “finished” it only to start over and completely redo it. It was my most loathed chapter of this fic, I hated it with a passion, but it actually turned out to be my very favorite, so I hope you like it.  
> Some notes on this chapter:  
> • One of the most challenging things about this fic was the characterizations, because I’m writing Dick and Jason, but they aren’t quite the Dick and Jason we have come to love. Dick is obviously not himself considering the whole Court experience, but I did still try to provide some glimpses of “Dick Grayson” under all the brainwashing. Jason is “fresh out of the pit”, so he’s a much younger and more vulnerable Jason Todd who hasn’t killed yet or gone through any of his “Red Hood” training and I tried to convey that while still keeping him in character (I hope it worked). I like to think of this Jason Todd as less angry and more vulnerable, especially since Tim hasn’t become Robin yet.  
> • I hope the whole “flash-back” sequence towards the end wasn’t confusing and if some of the flash-back scenes seemed familiar it’s because I reworked some of my fav Jason and Dick moments in canon.  
> • Kudos and comments feed my soul 😉


	3. Can I Exist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See TRIGGER WARNINGS at the End Notes.  
> This Chapter was inspired by the song Can I Exist by MISSIO. Enjoy!

When Jason's knees hit the ground, he hit hard. Only vaguely registering the sound of glass crunching underneath his weight. He was sure the pain of having glass shards imbedded in his knees would eventually catch up to him, but in this moment the only thing that mattered was Dick Grayson.

As Jason had begun to fall, Dick was already moving towards him with inhuman speed. His only detour to Jason being to the coffee table where he had previously laid his goggles.

Within seconds Dick was on his knees in front of Jason, babbling a stream of apologies as he worked to get his goggles back on.

"Sorry, so sorry," Dick repeated for what must have been the sixth time, obviously panicked and still struggling to fix his goggles. "I should have warned you before I took my goggles off. My eyes- my face," he corrected, "can be a shock."

Jason didn't know if he should laugh or cry at Dick thinking he had been shocked to the point of falling to his knees because of something as trivial as a slightly unusual appearance. No, it wasn't the eyes that had made Jason's leg's buckle. It was who those eyes belonged to.

Jason continued to watch Dick in stunned silence as the man continued his stream of apologies. Dick didn't seem to know what to do with his hands as they awkwardly hovered around Jason, torn between helping support Jason's weight or doing something about his bloodied knees. 

Seeming to finally come to a decision, Dick helped Jason to his feet and then proceeded to half guide/half drag the other man over to the couch. 

Once Jason was settled on the couch, Dick immediately kneeled between his legs and began to remove the shards of glass with a speed and precision equal to that of a medical professional. Jason didn't remember Dick being this skilled at first-aid. The man had always relied on Alfred for any injuries that were beyond a band-aid, but Jason could honestly not give a shit about Dick’s newfound medical prowess. All that mattered was getting those stupid fucking goggles off so Jason could be sure that it was really Dick Grayson who was on his knees kneeling between Jason’s spread legs and not just some fucked up hallucination, hellbent on torturing Jason with ghosts of his past. 

"Take them off," Jason rasped, finally able to voice his urgent need to see Dick’s face unobscured. 

Dick, who had been wholly focused on Jason's knees, immediately snapped his head up at the sound of Jason's voice, his confusion by the abrupt request evident in the way his forehead crinkled.

When he made no move to comply, Jason repeated himself, "Your goggles, take them off."

"Little bird-"Dick began, obviously unsure what to make out of the demand.

"Now." Jason croaked, his voice now desperate.

Hearing the urgency in Jason’s voice, Dick quickly obeyed, ripping the goggles off his face, leaving his hair mussed and eyes questioning.

The man beneath the googles was unnaturally pale, the blue veins of his face in sharp contrast with the pale skin that was once olive in color. His hair was shorter than Jason remembered, now just barely curling beneath his ears. The most startingly difference, though, were his eyes. Once what was a bright blue were now an equally striking gold. Regardless of all these differences, there was no doubt in Jason's mind that the man staring up at him was Dick Grayson.

Jason couldn’t help but notice that despite Dick’s new and unusual coloring, he was still stupidly handsome—no, handsome wasn’t the right word. Dick was and had always been too pretty to be called handsome, his eyelashes too full, his lips too pouty, his frame too lithe to fall under the standard definition of male beauty. No, ‘handsome’ was too plain to accurately describe Dick. Before, Jason would have described Dick as gorgeous, but now with golden eyes and skin so pale it almost glowed, Dick looked otherworldly—ethereal. 

But unlike before, tragedy now laced Dick’s good looks. He hadn’t gotten this way naturally; someone had done this to Dick. They had stolen the color that once warmed Dick’s skin and replaced the blue orbs in his eyes with liquid amber. 

He was beautiful in the most broken way possible.

Jason slowly raised his hand to Dick's face, lightly tracing the faint blue veins that now adorned his face. He was half expecting Dick to fade away the moment he touched him, for this to be some new sick way his nightmares had decided to torture him. But Dick didn't disappear, he remained kneeling between Jason’s spread legs, staring up at him with questioning, golden eyes. 

And Jason would have been content to stare into those eyes all night if his attention hadn’t been captured by Dick’s slightly parted lips, poised as if they wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. 

Unable to stop himself, his thumb began tracing those faintly blue, yet familiar lips when he felt tears begin to collect at the corners of his eyes. A feeling of despair overtaking him for what Dick Grayson had become, for what had been done to him. 

"Dickie," Jason began, his voice cracking on the name, "what happened to you?" 

Jason felt Dick flinch at the question.

"You know me?" Dick whispered in a tone broken yet hopeful.

"Yeah," Jason gave a broken laugh, dropping his hand from Dick's face, "I know you. Do you- do you really not remember me?" He asked, already knowing the answer to his question. 

Dick studied him with such intensity that Jason could tell how hard Dick was trying to remember, how much he _wanted_ to remember.

"No," the man croaked after several minutes of searching for memories that weren't there. Tears were quickly gathering in Dick's eyes as he desperately searched Jason’s face for anything that would make him remember, but desperation soon turned to anguish as it became apparent that there was nothing left for him to remember.

"Remind me who I was?" Dick asked, his eyes pleading.

"Yeah, I can do that, pretty bird."

Jason offered his hand, helping Dick to his feet so that he could join him on the couch while Jason told him the story of Dick Grayson. 

xXx

Jason spent the next three hours recounting Dick's life to him, trying to remember every detail he had ever heard from Bruce or Dick himself. By the time he had finished, Dick had looked on the verge of tears, mourning the life that was stolen for him. It wasn't until Jason had stopped talking that Dick finally looked up from where he had been staring at the ground.

"But who are you to me, you never explained that," He pointed out, his brow furrowed with confusion.

And fuck, what did Jason say to that. I'm Bruce's other, less relevant son? I'm the kid who jacked your green scaly panties and cape? I'm Robin 2.0, but the suckier version that got blown up by the Joker? Jason didn’t even know what he was to Dick before he died, how the hell was he supposed to know now. 

At a loss for what to say, Jason started with his own Robin origin story. It didn’t really answer Dick’s question, but it at least explained how he fit into this whole mess.

"Well, Batman caught me trying to jack the tires off the Batmobile" He couldn't help but smile at the memory, "I almost got away with it too, but he showed up right when I was in the middle of getting the fourth tire off. I wouldn't admit it then, but I was scared shitless, and in a shining moment of Jason Todd brilliance, I hit him with a tire iron and tried to run.

"A tire iron obviously didn't do shit to the Batman and well, long story short he took me in, even adopted me. He eventually made me Robin, you were already Nightwing and off doing your thing with the Titans by then, but it still pissed you off that Bruce gave me the Robin mantle. You and him were always having blow-up fights about it if you two weren’t busy ignoring each other. 

"You didn't want anything to do with me at first, wouldn't even glance my way if we happened to be in the same room. I think I might have been the only person in the world that Dick Grayson hated." Jason concluded, his tone taking on a wistful quality, lost in memories he had long since forgotten about.

It wasn’t until he noticed Dick's pained expression that he hurried to elaborate, "But things got better between us, not great but better. We were actually really starting to get along, but then you went on a mission in space with the Titans, and well, I died before you got back. And apparently somewhere between then and now the Court got you." He finished lamely, waiting for what Dick would say.

"Are we brothers?" He asked after several minutes of contemplation, a small hopeful smile playing at the edges of his lips, his eyes momentarily losing the sorrow they held. 

Out of all the questions that Jason expected him to ask, that was not one of them. Jason wanted to yes more than anything, to feed the hopeful look on Dick’s face at the prospect of them being brothers, but they weren't, not really.

Dick had already been living in Blüdhaven and leading the Titans by the time Jason had moved into the manor. They rarely saw each other, and when they did, Dick was usually doing his very best to pretend Jason didn't exist or yelling at Bruce about Jason existing. Towards the end, he and Dick had started warming up to each other, a tentative friendship forming between the two. And what may have been the start of a friendship and maybe even the beginnings of them becoming brothers was cut short when Jason got himself killed. So, no. They weren't brothers, but they might have been in another life. 

"We could have been," Jason settled on. Dick seemed to deflate a bit at his answer but still seemed pleased enough to have someone from his forgotten past once again in his life. 

"And Dick Grayson. That's my name?" He asked a few moments later.

"The one and only." 

"Dick Grayson," Dick repeated, trying the name out. Jason noticed a small frown develop on the other man's face.

"What? You don't like your own name?" Jason teased.

"It's just- is that not the word for—" He trailed off, gesturing to his crotch.

Jason couldn’t help the laugh the escaped him, laughing only harder when Dick started to sulk.

Taking mercy on the other man, “Your full name is actually Richard John Grayson, but you always insisted that everyone call you Dick.” Jason answered, pausing before adding, “I think Bruce once mentioned something about how Dick is what your parents always called you.”

“Hm, Dick Grayson, it is then,” Dick said looking pleased at this revelation.

“Nice to meet you, Dick Grayson. Jason Todd.” Jason said with a fond smile, offering his hand.

Dick returned the handshake with his fully fingered hand and beamed a smile of his own that was no doubt 100% Dick Grayson.

Shaking Dick’s fully fingered hand reminded Jason that Dick was now a two-finger down Dick, who could probably use some first-aid. 

“So, I noticed you’re missing some fingers,” smooth Todd, real fucking smooth, “if you want, I can wrap them up for you?”

“Thank you, but I’d rather just reattach them.”

“Uh, I think we kind of missed the window for sewing your fingers back on, Dick, especially since they weren’t on ice.” Jason couldn’t help but wonder if the Court had screwed up Dick’s basic understanding of first aid. Dick should know that the chances of successfully reattaching limbs that weren’t properly ‘stored’ were pretty slim.

Completely misunderstanding Jason’s concerns, Dick replied, “I know they would grow back on their own, but I like these fingers.” He said it quietly as if he was expecting Jason to disagree with him and demand that he grow new fingers –which who the fuck knew growing new fingers was even on the table– and throw the old ones away.

When Jason didn’t respond, Dick elaborated, voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t want new fingers. I like the old ones.”

What the hell, did Dick really think Jason was going to steal his fingers and make him grow new ones? Better question, when did Jason fall asleep and wake up in the Twilight Zone where Dick was a bird-themed ex-assassin who could apparently grow his fingers back?

Jason had seen freaky, heck, Jason was the definition of freaky considering his undead status, but this was a new brand of freaky even for him.

Jason didn’t know how long he had been staring at Dick in shocked silence, but it must have been an uncomfortably long amount of time considering how twitchy Dick was getting.  
“I get it,” Jason shrugged, not knowing what else to say but at the same time trying to convey he wasn’t going to force the other man to do anything he didn’t want to do, including regrowing fingers he preferred to reattach. “I wouldn’t want to grow new ones either, I hear growing new bones hurts like a bitch.”

Jason actually had no idea if growing new bones hurt, why would he? But he had read Harry Potter and as far as he was concerned that was as credible as a source was going to get when it came to regrowing bones.

“You don’t wish to see me regrow them?” Dick asked with a cock of his head. Something about the gesture put Jason on edge. It was different than the other time’s Dick had cocked his head. The previous times were more of a result of the man’s confusion, but this was... something else. It made Jason feel like he was being appraised. It made him feel like prey. The gesture was definitely a 'new' Dick Grayson development, Jason couldn’t remember pre-Talon Dick ever looking at someone like that before.

The reaction was a sharp reminder that this wasn’t the Dick that Jason remembered. This was an extremely traumatized and substantially more dangerous Dick Grayson, a Dick Grayson that didn’t remember Jason and was still learning to trust him.

Swallowing down his unease, Jason gave the best neutral response he could.

“I thought you said you would rather reattach your fingers?” 

“Yes, but that does not mean that most men wouldn’t demand to see me regrow them in the name of science,” Dick replied a little too casually. 

Dick’s response made Jason wonder just how many body parts he’d been forced to regrow and who was the Frankenstein wanna-be that had used Dick as his own personal science experiment.

Feeling that his mood was taking a darker turn at the revelation that Dick was most likely the victim to some horrors that not even he could imagine, Jason did what he did best and tried to make light of a truly fucked up situation.

"Well, I'm not most men, and I sucked ass at science, so you don't have to worry about me doing anything in the name of science." He said with a self-deprecating grin.

That earned him a small snort from Dick, the man once again visibly relaxing.

"And Dick," Jason continued more seriously. "do you remember what I promised you earlier tonight? I will never demand anything of you, okay?"

Jason watched as Dick visibly swallowed before replying, "Okay." Despite the simplicity of the statement, Jason watched as a series of complex emotions crossed Dick's face, relief, gratitude, _trust_. Gone was the defensiveness and unease that Dick had exhibited only moments ago. 

Finally reassured that Jason wasn't some kind of finger tyrant, Dick began to strip away what remained of his left glove using one of the many daggers strapped against his chest. With the glove gone, Jason was able to get a better look at the damaged hand. Unsurprisingly, it was just as disgusting, if not more disgusting, without the glove. The only improvement being that there weren't pieces of melted material sticking to the bloody stumps now. 

Once the glove was removed, Dick reached into the hidden pocket of his uniform that housed his missing fingers. The fingers that he withdrew were worse for wear, to put it mildly. The pinky looked more like a bone with some chunks of flesh hanging on it, while the ring finger looked more like a piece of beef jerky than a finger.

Jason swallowed down his nausea since it would probably be considered impolite to vomit at the sight of someone's recently departed fingers.

Just when Jason thought the sight of crispy fingers couldn't get worse, it got 2000% worse. Using the same dagger, Dick chopped off a thin layer of skin from the fingers' damaged ends, revealing a fresh layer of flesh. Which okay, it made sense for the guy to chop off the ends if he was planning to reattach them, but a little warning might be nice next time.

Dick then proceeded to place the fingers on Jason's coffee table, which ew, he was definitely going to have to remember to Clorox that later. It seemed that Dick was not done with his hacking job, though. To Jason's immense horror -but honestly, he should have seen it coming at this point- Dick, with two quick flicks of the wrist, scrapped off the blood clots that had formed where the fingers had been separated from his hand.

As soon as the wounds were reopened, Dick aligned his hand with the fingers on the coffee table. Jason was just about to offer to get him some stitching supplies when the severed fingers started spidermannig themselves back together.

_And holy reattach-able fingers, Batman!_ Apparently, Dick's fingers could reattach themselves, which wasn’t too surprising. If Dick could grow back his fingers back, then it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that his fingers could reattach themselves.  
As he watched Dick's fingers reattach themselves, he could hear the muscles and other tissues shooting out and reconnecting to each other. This was honestly some kind of Wolverine or Deadpool level shit, and if he wasn’t so focused on not ralphing all over Dick, he would probably be fanboying so hard right now.

It took about 30 seconds for the fingers to reknit themselves together, another 30 seconds for all traces of damage to disappear and about a minute, based on the awkward twitching of Dick’s newly attached fingers, for the nerves to get back in working order. Jason watched as the Dick began to flex his fingers, only the initial popping noise giving away that there was ever anything amiss with the digits.

“Enhanced regeneration,” Dick said with a frown, continuing to examine his newly attached fingers, “you would think it was one of the few perks of being a Talon, but it was really only another way the Court tortured us.”

“Dickie—” Jason began, pained by the implications of Dick’s statement, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Oh, little bird, don’t be sorry for things that had nothing to do with you,” Dick said, giving him a sad smile.

Despite Dick’s reassurance, Jason couldn’t help but partially blame himself for what had happened to Dick. If he hadn’t run off and gotten himself killed, he might have been able to find Dick before he had to suffer years of the Courts brainwashing and other horrors. If only he hadn’t been so goddamn stupid.

Jason didn’t think he’d ever hate someone as much as he hated Bruce and the Joker, but the Court was proving him wrong on that front. 

It didn’t surprise Jason that his own thoughts were drifting into the territory of all the ways he’d make the Court suffer for what they did to Dick if they were still around. But for once, it seemed that Batman had finally done something right when he decided to destroy the Court. 

“Those bastards are lucky they’re already dead—” Jason growled, voicing his own thoughts, only to stop when he felt Dick tense up beside him on the couch.

“The Talon’s are dead… not the Court.” Dick said, a hint of confusion in his tone.

“What do you mean the Courts not dead? I thought you said Batman killed them all.”

“He killed all the Court’s Talons. The Court, our Masters, weren’t like us. They were completely human. Batman didn’t kill them, he arrested them.”

Jason’s vision started to go green around the edges, the pit rage slowly creeping up on him. Batman had not only failed one son but _two_ now. Bruce obviously hadn’t figured out that Dick was one of the Talon’s yet, but the point still stood. Dick was Bruce’s partner, his kid. Jason didn’t give a flying fuck how old Dick was, Bruce pulled Dick into this life and it was his responsibility to watch out for Dick, to protect him, to save him. 

Even if you took Dick out of the equation, Bruce should have slaughtered the Court like the monsters they were, for the crimes against humanity they had committed. There was no way that Bruce hadn’t figured out the ‘experiments’ the Court had been conducting and yet, he still let them walk away with nothing more than a slap on the wrist. 

Monsters who did the things they did to Dick and others deserved to be put down, _needed_ to be put down. 

He was just about to start planning all the ways he’d make the Court suffer when Dick spoke again, bringing him back to reality.

“If they- when they,” Dick corrected, “get free, they will come for me.”

“And I will kill every last one of them.” Jason replied without hesitation. 

Dick’s eyes snapped to Jason’s face, his gaze intense and searching. For what, Jason didn’t know, maybe sincerity, but he wasn’t sure.

“You’d kill? For me?” Dick asked, confusion evident in his tone, “Why?”

“It’s what almost-brothers do for each other, Dickie.” Jason said with a soft smile, pulling Dick against his side until Dick was tucked under his arm.

There was a pause before Dick responded, “You’re a good, almost-bother, little bird,” resting his head against Jason's chest.

Hugging Dick close, Jason absently started twirling the short strands of Dick’s hair around his fingers as he daydreamed about all the ways he was going to make the Court pay. Jason had thought Dick had fallen asleep until the other man whispered, “I’m so tired of being afraid,” against his chest. 

“I know,” Jason replied, pulling Dick closer and holding him tight as the other man drifted off into sleep.

As Jason looked down at Dick’s sleeping face, he knew he would do anything to make sure Dick never suffered again. 

“Don’t worry, Dickie. I’m going to kill all our monsters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mentions of past torture (torture is non-explicit), self-mutilation for first aid purposes. Gore. Blood.  
> 


	4. The Shower Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fair warning, I have changed the rating of this fic to Explicit because there are just far too many penises in this chapter for me to keep the rating at Mature in good conscious.
> 
> I’m also thinking about spicing up future chapters, so let me know if Explicit content is something y’all would be interested in.
> 
> Also, here’s another fair warning for you, I make like 2.5 references to the movie Psycho that could be considered spoiler alerts? But is it really a spoiler if the movie came out 60 years ago? I don’t know, but I thought I’d put that out there just in case. If you have no clue what Psycho is, no worries, the story still makes complete sense.
> 
> As always see Chapter End Notes for potential Trigger Warnings.

Judging by the crick in his neck, Jason could tell that passing out on the couch had been a mistake. Not only did all the vertebras in his neck feel like they had arranged themselves into a drunken conga line, but he had also fallen asleep before he could properly dress his bloodied knees, resulting in the dried blood of last night’s incident melding his pants to his skin.

It was _not_ a pleasant way to wake up.

But despite the initial regret he felt regarding his sleeping decisions, there was one positive that made the crick in his neck and the gross pants situation more than worth it, and that was the feeling of having Dick curled around him.

Jason smiled at the sight of the other man, his head resting on Jason’s jean-clad thigh with his nose pressed snuggly against the other’s stomach. His left arm had even somehow snaked its way under Jason’s legs, while his right hand clutched at the waistband of his pants, a few stray fingers slipping beyond the band and ghosting against the dip of Jason’s hip.

Like this, Dick looked so young and untroubled, like a child almost, untouched by grief and sorrow. So achingly different from the man that Jason knew him to be, one who was well acquainted with all the horrors the world had to offer.

Trailing his fingers through the soft tufts of the man’s hair, Jason couldn’t help but wish they could go back to when they were both so much younger and still relatively unscathed by the cruelties of the world. Back to before Jason’s fate had met a crowbar and to before Dick had been taken by the Court. Back to when they weren’t so broken.

But there was no point in wishing for yesterdays to be todays. Not when the universe had obviously never given a shit about what happened to either of them and most likely never would.

It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t fair. They deserved better.

 _Dick_ deserved better.

Taking a grounding breath, Jason reeled back his anger towards the unfairness of it all and concentrated on the sound of Dick’s breathing.

The other’s breaths came slow and steady, and his body remained pliant and relaxed, completely undisturbed by Jason’s inner turmoil, and with every breath Dick took, Jason matched it until he could feel his anger and the stirring of the pit madness completely recede.

Savoring the now peaceful moment, Jason closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch as he focused on the way Dick’s puffs of breath felt against the skin where his shirt had ridden up and the way the soft tufts of hair felt between his fingers.

He found his mind wandering as he imagined future mornings between them being like this one.

Jason couldn’t remember the last time he had woken up from a sleep that was devoid of maniacal laughter or the sound of his own bones breaking under the force of a bloodied crowbar.

He was quick to admit that he was greedy for more mornings like this one, but he couldn’t expect Dick to serve as his own personal teddy bear just because he couldn’t get a grip on his own subconscious.

Last night, as great as it had been, had been an accident, a fluke, and there was no reason Jason should expect a repeat performance no matter how desperately he wanted it.

He gave himself one more minute of just listening to Dick’s steady breathing, a moment to burn this morning into his memory, before resigning himself to starting the day and taking the shower he no doubt was in desperate need of.

Gently, he pried Dick’s fingers from his waistband and carefully slid the man’s head from his lap onto the cushions of the couch.

Dick didn’t wake, but he did seem to notice the loss of heat, curling further into himself.

Physically incapable of leaving him looking so cold, Jason gabbed the second-hand quilt draped across the back of the couch and used it to cover Dick’s sleeping form.

Satisfied that the other would be warm enough, he made his way to the bathroom, shutting the door with a soft click.

___________________

Throughout the years, Jason found that there were very few problems in life that couldn’t be made better by a long hot shower, and as such, it was the one amenity he refused to skimp out on. He didn’t care how shitty the rest of the apartment was as long as the shower was good.

His current safe house reflected this criterion.

It was one step above a hole in the wall, but what it lacked in security and interior design, it made up for it in damn good water pressure and scolding hot water, both of which he was taking current advantage of.

As the heated water cascaded down his body, he grabbed a bar of Irish Spring and began to languidly rub the bar of soap across the expanse of his chest, taking his time as he enjoyed the way the slightly too hot water stung his skin.

Tipping his head from side to side, he attempted to work the kinks out of his neck, groaning in bliss as the combination of his stretching and the spray of the hot water relaxed the muscles that had cramped up during his ill-advised sleepover on the couch with Dick.

After basking in the hot water for a solid ten minutes and not doing much washing at all, he decided that he should probably get to work on his knees. The last thing he needed was an infection. Not only would it be a pain in his ass to deal with, but he also couldn’t risk going to the hospital or Leslie’s clinic if he wanted to stay under the Bat’s radar. 

It was as he was bending over to get a better look at the damage to his knees that he noticed a silhouetted figure shadowed against the closed shower curtain.

His mind immediately jumped to Dick’s warning of the Court coming after them to reclaim Dick as their Talon. He had fully accepted this as a reality when he had asked the other man to stay, but he hadn’t expected it to be so damn soon or for himself to be butt-ass naked when the time came to fight off the Court.

And to top it all off, the goddamn owl-fuckers were apparently trying to recreate the shower scene in Psycho.

Why did every lunatic in Gotham have to be so goddamn dramatic?

Keeping up the act of washing himself, Jason pretended he hadn’t noticed his uninvited guest as he quickly cataloged the items in the shower, trying to determine what could best be used as a weapon.

He had your standard razor, but that honestly would do jack-shit against his assailant if they had even the barest level of clothing on, and Jason seriously doubted his would-be murderer had decided to even the odds by stripping down to their birthday suit.

Jason momentarily considered using his shampoo to blind his attacker, knowing from personal experience that a drop of his Two-in-One Head and Shoulders was more effective than a flashbang, but he quickly disregarded the idea. He had no way of knowing if his attacker’s eyes would even be vulnerable. If they were anything like Dick, they’d have goggles on that would make an impromptu shampoo attack the equivalent of splashing a deep-sea diver in the face with water.

There was potential in the shower rod that held the curtain in place, but that would be a little too obvious if Jason decided to remove the rod in the middle of his shower, and surprise was the only advantage he had at the moment.

With the razor, shampoo, and shower rod off the table when it came to potential improvised shower-murder weapons, Jason was left with one option—his luffa on a stick.

Yeah, the luffa was completely useless, unless he was planning on shoving it down the dipshits throat, but the _stick_ , the stick had potential. 

Discreetly ripping the luffa head off the stick, Jason braced himself for what was no doubt going to go down as one of the shittiest attack plans in human history, second only to Hitler’s plan to up against 'General Winter'.

Once the attacker was what Jason judged to be two feet away, he steeled himself with his luffa-less luffa-stick and tackled the intruder through the shower curtain, bringing the asshole, along with the shower curtain and rod down to the tiled floor of the bathroom with a hard thud.

Straddling the wannabe Norman Bates, Jason raised his luffa-stick above his head, preparing to impale the fucker through the eye when he realized that the assailant underneath him was, in fact, a very wide-eyed and startled Dick Grayson.

“What the fuck, Dick?!” Jason panted, throwing the luffa-stick to the side as he tried to rein in the adrenaline rush that was threatening to jack-hammer his heart out of his chest.

“You scared the shit out of me! I thought you were the goddamn Court of motherfucking Owls coming to Norman-Bate me in the shower while they spirited you away!” Jason all but shouted, pushing back the wet hair that had fallen into his eyes so that he could properly glare at the man who had given him two near heart attacks within the last 24 hours. Dick Grayson was quickly becoming a hazard to his cardiac health.

“Norman-Bate you?” Dick asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Jason shook his head disbelievingly, his own eyes widening in dumbfounded despair, “Not the point of concern here, Dickie.”

At Jason's displeased tone Dick's look of confusion quickly shifted to one of contriteness.

“I didn’t know where you went,” Dick all but whispered, his tone and eyes tinged with desperation, pleading for Jason to understand the gravity of him not being able to find the other man when he had woken up alone on the couch.

Understanding suddenly dawned on Jason. Dick had been afraid. He thought Jason had _abandoned_ him. 

The realization nearly broke Jason's heart right on the spot, making it impossible for him to stay mad at the other man, especially when the fear of waking up alone was still clearly written on his face.

“I was just in the shower,” Jason said helplessly, motioning with a halfhearted wave of his hand to the still running shower.

He wanted nothing more than to reassure Dick that he would _never,_ _ever_ even think of leaving him, but was at a loss for the right words. How did you convey to someone that you felt a loyalty and protectiveness towards them that you yourself didn't even quite understand? 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Dick said, his voice small and golden eyes unsure as they searched Jason’s face for forgiveness.

And well fuck, now Jason felt like the asshole.

“You don’t gotta be sorry, Dick. Just knock before you come in next time, okay?”

“Okay.” Dick agreed readily, a smile breaking across his face, transforming his previously meek and cautious demeanor to one of joy ridden gratitude.

Jason was blown away by how such a simple compromise could make the other man so happy and couldn’t help but return Dick’s own bright smile. The man was contagious when it came to his joy, no matter how simply it was sparked.

Time seemed to slip away from Jason as he became lost in the soft contentment of Dick’s golden eyes, unsure and uncaring of how long he sat there smiling at Dick as the other man smiled back at him. It wasn't until he began to feel Dick shift underneath him that he remembered he was currently straddling the other man while completely nude. He could feel his cheeks begin to burn in embarrassment and quickly stood. But the action obviously wasn’t thought through because now he was straddling Dick from above and giving him a full frontal.

Belatedly, he cupped himself, despite knowing the damage was already done.

Jason needed a towel, and he needed it like 30 seconds ago, but just his ever failing luck, the towel that he had left neatly folded on the counter was nowhere to be found. He spun in a circle trying to locate the towel while simultaneously trying not to trip over Dick or the shower curtain, both of which were still sprawled across the floor.

It was a bright red towel, for fucks sake, how hard could it be to find in his 5’ by 7’ bathroom? 

Apparently very hard.

Just as he was about to give up on the towel and just wrap the damn shower curtain around his waist, he spotted the towel wedged between the toilet and counter and bent over to retrieve it. 

It was only when he was fully bent over the toilet that he realized his ass and balls were on full display for Dick.

At this point, Jason would have gladly taken getting stabbed to death in his shower Norman Bates-style over the fucking train wreck that was happening right now.

Grabbing the towel from where it had fallen on the ground, he quickly wrapped it around his waist. Taking a moment to gather himself while his back faced Dick, willing his face to return to a normal shade of color.

When Jason did finally work up the nerve to chance a glance back at the other man, he found Dick sitting upright, his legs crossed with his hands resting in his lap, and a pleasant look on his face as he casually watched Jason tighten the towel around his waist.

It was decidedly not the look of a man who just had dick, ass, and balls shoved in his face in quick succession.

Jason was expecting something more along the lines of shock, with some gapping, and eye shielding. Perhaps even disgust with a side of retching. Jason would have even considered secondhand embarrassment an appropriate response to the situation, but Dick expressed none of these. He had a casually pleasant look on his face as if he were enjoying a lovely summer's day stroll through the park rather than the look of a man who had just witnessed the most horrifyingly unsexy peep show in history.

Needing something else to do besides make awkward eye contact with Dick, who just continued to pleasantly smile at him, he bent over (with the towel firmly wrapped around his waist, thank you very much) and grabbed the shower rod along with the curtain and began to put it back in place, hoping Dick would take this as his queue to leave.

Unfortunately, when Jason turned around, Dick was still there, seemingly content to sit on the bathroom floor, oblivious to Jason's obvious mortification.

Should he address the whole dick, ass, and balls incident? 

Nope! He wasn't ready for that yet. He didn't think he'd ever be ready for that. Maybe they could just pretend that never happened.

"Well Dickie, I still need to wash my hair," Jason opted to say, breaking the awkward silence with an even more awkward feeling statement.

In response, Dick just nodded his head in understanding, smiling happily up at Jason from his spot on the floor.

"So, I'm going to shower now."

"Okay."

"You can go wait for me on the couch if you want," he said, trying one final time to get Dick to leave so he could shower and suffer in peace.

"It's okay. I like it here with you. It's very warm," Dick responded in a tone that was so genuinely content that Jason didn't have the heart to force the issue or explain why it was rather inappropriate for Dick to stay in the bathroom while he showered.

Resigning himself to a shower with company, Jason stepped into the tub, closing the curtain before throwing his towel over the edge in an attempt to preserve some sense of modesty. But after fully flashing the other man, he doubted he had much to preserve at this point.

Stepping into the still blissfully hot water, Jason tried to ignore the fact that he wasn't alone to enjoy his shower, but that turned out to be a difficult task when his newly self-appointed bathroom buddy started humming off tune. Making it utterly impossible to ignore his presence.

Was Jason making the whole situation even more awkward by not talking to Dick while he showered? 

He knew fuck all when it came to the etiquette of these types of situations. Alfred sure as hell never taught him the proper way to behave when you had an uninvited guest in the bathroom with you.

He felt like he should say something, but was making conversation while you showered on the same level as trying to talk to someone while you were shitting? Jason really didn't want to be _that_ guy.

But the longer the silence stretched, the more awkward Jason felt. He should make conversation, right? _Right._ It totally wasn't on the same level as trying to talk to a guy while you took a shit.

"You sleep good last night, Dickie?" Jason tried, hoping this was an appropriate topic when it came to 'shower-talk.'

"Yes," came Dick's short reply.

If there was one thing that had changed about the Dick Grayson Jason used to know, it was that Dick was nowhere near the talkative jabberwocky that Jason remembered him to be.

But where Dick's conversation skills had diminished, it seemed that his personal boundary issues had only intensified. Hence, the most awkward shower of Jason's life.

"Once I'm done showering there should still be plenty of hot water left, and you can have your turn."

"Thank you."

"Mmmhm," Jason hummed his response, not sure what else to say.

Jason did make a note to himself, though, that talking while showering did not, in fact, lessen the awkwardness of the situation, and he should avoid it at all costs in the future.

Deciding to turn his attention back to washing himself, he made quick work at washing his hair and gave the rest of his body a quick scrub down, paying particular attention to his knees.

After washing the tacky blood away from his knees, he was able to see that all the cuts were shallow and already starting to heal. He'd put some Neosporin on it later, but other than that, his knees should heal fine on their own.

"Jason?" Dick called out, interrupting Jason from his thoughts.

"Yeah, Dickie?"

"Do you mind if I go to the bathroom while you shower?"

And shit, Jason hadn't even thought about Dick needing to use the can. No wonder the guy was so insistent that he stay in the bathroom. Jason himself had taken a leak the moment he had gotten into the shower the first time; who knew the last time Dick had the chance to relieve himself.

"Yeah, go for it," Jason called out to the other man, "do you want me to hum while you do your business?"

There was a noticeable pause before Dick answered, "You want to sing to me while I go to the bathroom?" the confusion was evident in the other man's tone.

"Well, not sing," Jason replied, somewhat embarrassed, "I just mean, do you want me to make noise while you go to the bathroom so I can't hear you?"

"Why would I care if you hear me go to the bathroom?" Dick asked, the confusion once again evident in his voice.

"I don't know, some people get a little pee shy when other people can hear them," Jason replied lamely, feeling a little stupid for even bringing it up in the first place. He should have just kept his mouth shut and let Dick do his business instead of turning it into a _thing_.

"Oh," Dick began, his tone lightening with understanding. Jason could hear the rustle of fabric as he assumed Dick pulled down his pants, "No, it's okay, I've gotten used to not having privacy. It's one of the first things the Court takes away from you."

Ironically, even without the humming on his part, Jason couldn't hear Dick pissing with the way the blood was rushing in his ears. His anger once again flaring at the Court's cruelty towards Dick. It suddenly made perfect sense why Dick had seemed so unperturbed by Jason's nakedness.

Jason was coming to the realization that killing the Court wouldn't be enough. He was going to make them suffer tenfold in every way they had abused and tortured Dick, and he'd start by stripping them of their privacy, just as they had done to Dick.

The flush of the toilet brought him back to the present and made him aware that he had been gripping the shampoo bottle so hard that he had squeezed out a good third of its contents.

"Well, you're not with the Court anymore. You can have all the privacy you want now," Jason responded, as he focused on cleaning up the mess he had made with the Shampoo.

"I know," Dick responded lightly, "But I don't really need it when I'm around you."

And now what the fuck was that supposed to mean? Dick didn't talk half as much as he used to, but the few things he did say confused the ever-loving fuck out of Jason.

At a loss for what to say, Jason just grunted and hurriedly finished his shower. Grabbing the towel he had thrown over the shower rod, he dried himself off behind the curtain before wrapping it around his waist. Dick might be comfortable with total nudity, but Jason wasn't quite on Dick's level yet.

"Okay-" Jason began, fully intending on telling Dick that he could have a go at the shower, but as he pulled back the shower curtain, his sentence died in his throat at the sight of a naked-as-the-day-he-was-born Dick Grayson.

He honestly shouldn't have been surprised to find that Dick was already naked considering the events of the last twenty minutes, but it was hard not to be shocked when coming face to face with Dick in all his shining glory.

Internally groaning, Jason wondered what he had done that was so bad in a past life that he deserved this special brand of torture.

Not only was Dick's cock on full display, but he was also half-hard, and Jason couldn't help but notice that it was a very nice looking half-hard cock.

A very nice looking half-hard cock that was also a very _big_ half-hard cock. Much bigger than Jason would have guessed if he was being honest. He could feel his hole twitch in interest at the thought of just how much bigger Dick would be fully hard. How it would feel to be stretched by his—

Nope! Nope, nope, nope. He was not going down that train of thought.

There was no fucking way that Dick was getting hard for him, and Jason had no business to be pining over him and his gorgeous cock.

Dick probably was just getting over the remnants of morning wood, and Jason needed to stop sexualizing a perfectly normal bodily function, especially when the other man was unaware of Jason's apparent sexual attraction to him.

Dick was obviously straight (see: his past obsessions with Barbra and Kori), and he probably thought nothing of being half hard in the presence of another man. This was a perfectly heterosexual situation. _Jason_ was the one who was making it gay.

Heck, if he had survived through high school, he probably would have experienced plenty of half-hard platonic dicks in the locker room!

This was honestly just another reason to hate the Joker. Leave it to the clown to kill him right before he received his 'when a dick is platonically hard' education.

Jason needed to get it together and stop staring at Dick's cock—oh god. He had been staring at Dick's cock, and he had no idea for how long either, but there was no chance in hell that the other man hadn't noticed.

At this point, he didn't know which would be worse, continuing to stare at Dick's cock or meeting the other man's gaze, but the decision was soon made for him when Dick called his name and based on the other's tone, this hadn't been the first time he had tried to get Jason's attention.

Slowly raising his eyes from the other man's cock, Jason swallowed, preparing himself for the disgust that would no doubt be etched on Dick's face.

But when Jason's gaze did meet the other's face, there wasn't a trace of disgust, but rather mildly questioning eyes and a look that Jason could only equate to as indulgent patience. Dick seemed completely and utterly oblivious to the thoughts that Jason was sure were seared across his face, oblivious to the effect he had on Jason.

He couldn't help but wonder if Dick was toying with him, pretending not to notice what was so obvious to Jason.

Letting his eyes roam across Dick's body once more, he searched for any sign of deceit, any indication that Dick wasn't as oblivious as he seemed.

But all Jason found when looking at Dick was unfeigned sincerity.

Dick's unabashed nudity wasn't a result of cockiness or an attempt at teasing seduction but rather a genuine lack of understanding when it came to why such a natural state would come with shame, and it only served to make Jason feel guiltier for seeing Dick's body and wanting nothing more than to feel the other man inside him.

"Yeah, Dickie?" Jason finally answered, trying not to visibly cringe at how rough his voice sounded, raising his eyes once again to meet Dick's golden ones.

"I asked if you were okay?" he said gently, as if he was afraid Jason would crack if he spoke too loud, and maybe it was a good thing that he did because Jason just might at this point.

He wanted to laugh at the question because he most definitely was _not_ okay. He was in the middle of having a cock induced crisis, but the look of genuine concern on Dick's face stopped the laugh before it could break past his lips. He didn't want to hurt the other man's feelings by having him think he was laughing at him, hurting Dick was the last thing Jason ever wanted to do.

In any other context, he would have even appreciated the show of concern. He couldn't remember the last time someone had asked him if he was okay. And the question only endeared the other man to him more.

He was quickly coming to the realization that he was beginning to become attracted to Dick in more than just a physical way. 

He would have to put a stop to that immediately… as soon as he figured out how.

Mustering up the best smile he could, Jason confirmed he was fine.

And the smile that he got in return stole his breath away. The man was smiling as if Jason being fine was the best news he had ever received, as if Jason's own smile to him was a gift.

It was all becoming too much for him, too quickly. He wasn't used to being the focal point of someone's attention like this, especially not in such a positive context. He had to get away, clear his head.

Averting his gaze, to hide his internal distress from Dick, he muttered that he would find Dick a change of clothes while the other man showered.

He made his way past him, being sure not to brush up against his very nude body.

It wasn't until he was outside the bathroom with the door firmly closed behind him that he let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding.

With Dick finally out of sight and a solid barrier between them, Jason's let himself slump against the closed bathroom door as he wracked his brain for what the hell had just happened.

One thing was clear though, Dick Grayson was going to be the death of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Nudity, References made to the movie Psycho aka references made to naked murder.
> 
> Two broooos, chillin' in the bathroom, only half-hard, because they're not gay.
> 
> As always, kudos and especially comments feed my soul and fuel my writing muses, so let me know what you thought! 😉


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